Days 91 through 100
Day Ninety-one: Quest for the Bone-biter Bow
I rose before dawn and took the guild guide transport to Ald-ruhn, where I slipped out of town under cover of darkness and my amulet's strong chameleon spell. The long hike into the Ashlands is wearing. I wish I could take the silt strider to Maar Gan, but I don't want to leave any trail for the Dark Brotherhood. In fact I avoided Maar Gan completely, and all other outposts of civilization.
How to describe the wide grey expanses of the Ashlands? Hard black rock rises like the exposed bones of some great dead beast; sometimes a ridge, like a spine; sometimes a series of sharp pinnacles, like grasping claws. Trama vines eke their living from the wastes, writhing to the surface as fast as the mighty dust storms can bury them. Lichen grows on the surface of rocks on the side away from Red Mountain. Anchored against the wind it could cover the stones, but the storms scour the faces, leaving them pitted and scarred.
It is a harsh land, and home to harsh creatures. Cliff racers soar from their high aeries to scavenge vast territories; or kill. Northern Kagouti may be even dumber than their cousins in the lush southern regions, though that is a cold judgment. The two that charged me as I passed today showed the effects of their environment, but can hardly be blamed for suffering the difficulties they were born into. They are thinner, with heavier hides protecting them from the scourging sands, and if possible even worse dispositions.
I think the best fit creature for the Ashlands is the shalk beetle. They are about the size of a man, but scurrying low on their six legs they are better able to weather the winds. Their thick black carapace affords protection from the grating sands, and the ravages of cliff racers. The shell is thinner underneath, and a hungry enterprising racer may strike to flip them over, but they are well equipped for offense as well. As they charge they spew a cloud of burning stinging mist. It is best to kill them before they get close, but can be difficult as their shell is some proof against arrows. Fortunately, a shot that damages a foreleg, or severs a somewhat vulnerable antenna can completely disrupt their charge, leaving them skidding across the sands.
Tonight I am camped among these creatures, and I suspect sleep will be fitful at best. In the morning I will reenter the burial caverns. I will emerge a clanfriend, or not at all.
Day Ninety-two: Spirit of Sul-Senipul
I rose from my fitful slumber shortly after dawn and quaffed a restorative potion to make up for the lost sleep. A small pile of crumbly dry trama vine and a flame spell, a kwama egg fried on my steel shield, toast with scrib jelly, and I was ready to face my fate.
As Hassour had predicted new skeletal sentinels had taken their posts in the entry tunnel. Expecting their presence I crept in hidden by my chameleon amulet and let fly with a barrage of arrows. I have found that skeletal warriors are best dealt with by targeting the pelvic bones. The broad flat bones offer a fair target, and a bone splintering impact from an iron broadhead can knock them completely off their bony feet. With that initial advantage I dispatched many of my adversaries without actually having to cross blades with their mighty silver claymores.
Beyond the entry tunnel I found a large water filled cavern. Stalagtites from an earlier drier age broke the surface, providing a path that could be followed by nimble leaping or levitation. I crossed carefully, not wanting to find out what lurked in the still waters. Burial urns and mummies adorned numerous outcrops and niches in the stone walls. I didn't know how I would recognize Sul-Senipul, but this cavern seemed to have been used long centuries before so I did not expect to find Sul-Matuul's father there. Rising slightly from the far side of the lake a tunnel led into the next cavern.
I continued on, knowing that I was already deep below ground. The next cavern confirmed that, as the top of the eerily lit dome closed high above my head. Water tumbled down from far above, pooling around the base of a great pile of jumbled stone that rose in the center to meet the vault far above. Precarious ramps led upward in a haphazard spiral. As I scaled upwards I kept the command word for my levitating boots on the tip of my tongue.
Four burial chambers open from the great central dome. I peered into them briefly as I passed, but I could see that far above there were ledges that held mummified remains. I thought that perhaps the central cavern could be a place of honor appropriate for the latest Urshilaku chiefs. When I completed the climb the dust of ages once again indicated that this chamber had been used many generations ago. It was definitely worth the climb though. Clutched against the chest of an ancient corpse I found the Magebane sword. This powerful and beautiful relic is forged from the volcanic glass of Red Mountain and adorned with precious metals. It would be worth a fortune, even without the powerful enchantments that protect the wielder from magical attack. I may have to get instruction in the art of combat with a two handed sword, just so I can have the experience of using such a blade.
Hassour's instruction rang in my ears. I had abandoned dozens of the silver weapons brought from the undead plane by the skeletal guardians, but Magebane was different. It was as if the ancient weapon whispered to me, demanding to be free of the tomb of its previous master. I slung the sword across my back, surprised at how light it is for such a massive weapon. Light, but still an addition to my load that I hoped would not undo my quest.
I explored the burial vaults until I found the object of my quest. A stone temple shelters the remains of the recently deceased chieftain and offers his spirit a haunting ground. A ground that gave the shade a distinct advantage. Before I had any chance to see it lurking in the shadowy heights the ghost unleashed the power of the Bone-biter. Great bolts of magic blasted down on me, draining the agility from my limbs. My own bow fell from my suddenly clumsy grasp, and as the specter swooped to the attack I was afraid to dodge for fear of stumbling to the floor. Ghostly arrows clattered off my armor or pierced deep into my flesh. I dropped to my knees, huddling behind my steel shield and calling forth the healing enchantment within it, then gulping a potion brewed to dispel magical effects.
With my coordination restored I rose to face the angry spirit. "Revered ancestor, I would choose not to harm you, and mean no harm to your people, but I must take your bow back into the light of day and deliver it to your son." I dove and rolled to one knee with my own enchanted bow back in my hands. When I enchanted my bow I never would have anticipated this moment. My Bowes magic is an exact counter for the Bone-biter, fortifying the agility of the wielder rather than diminishing that of the target. We exchanged spells until both weapons sputtered, the magica pent up in their souls spent.
"Sul-Senipul, I did not come here to steal your weapon from the Urshilaku, but to restore it to hands that can use it every day. I fear you, and the judgment of the ancestors, but the quest given by Sul-Matuul must be completed. I would leave your spirit here, where it can guide the clan and continue to serve, but if there is no other way I will dispatch you back to the plane of the dead."
The spirit settled to the stone floor and seemed to gain substance until it was almost solid. The glowing red eyes looked deeply into me. I wonder if my own physical substance appears as insubstantial to him as his does to me. With a clatter the bonemold bow landed at my feet.
I am home. Home with the Bone-biter bow of Sul-Senipul. I cannot say the Urshilaku ancestors welcomed me with open arms, but the initiation is complete.
Day Ninety-three:Tested
Many times today I wished I had not used my recall spell last night. Carrying the Bone-biter bow of Sul-Senipul might have given me passage out of the burial caverns past the rest of the Urshilaku ancestors, but I didn't think of that. It seemed easier to recall out and spend the night with Ahnassi. Definitely no complaint there, or overall, but it is a long trek back to the Urshilaku camp, especially since I didn't want to use the guild guide and pass through Ald-ruhn again without having started on Edwinna's assignment. Overall a hectic day of running, restoratives, and self defense. One would think this island would run out of cliff racers eventually.
I arrived at the Urshilaku camp after sunset, but not too late to be welcomed. Sul-Matuul was suitably astonished at my return. True to his word he accepted me as a clanfriend, offering the fullest hospitality of the camp, but he did not expect to see me again. According to the legend the Nerevarine is supposed to drive all the outlanders out of Morrowind. How an outlander could do that is pretty hard for him to get his head around. It's beyond me, and I've been thinking about it for a lot longer. I hoped to get an answer from the wise woman. Now that I am a clanfriend I was allowed to speak to her.
Nibani Maesa surprised me. I don't really forget that the Dunmer live for centuries, but I don't always think of the consequences. The words 'wise woman' bring an image of an aged crone, huddled in a robe three sizes too big for the shriveled body. Nibani is a beautiful, vibrant woman, despite having lived long enough to commit all the lore of the clan to memory. She seemed better able to deal with the idea of an outlander Nerevarine. Partly because I am not the Nerevarine.
The first thing she explained to me is that I am someone who might become the Nerevarine, but I am not now. The Urshilaku ancestors apparently accepted that I might and let me pass, but there are many more trials to be faced. The rise of the 'sleepers' and the Sixth House cult she takes as signs that the time of the Nerevarine has arrived. My arriving at the same time doesn't mean I'm the Nerevarine, but she is thinking that I may have some part to play.
I don't know if I even want that part to turn out to be as the Nerevarine. One of the prophecies is called 'The Seven Trials'. The first trial I completed just by being born on the right day, but the remaining trials are not even clearly understood. How am I supposed to pass them?
"Neither blight nor age can harm him. The curse-of-flesh before him flies." Nibani thinks 'curse of flesh' refers to the corprus disease. Maybe it means that the Nerevarine has to cure the corprus. Maybe it means he is immune to the corprus. Maybe it means that the Nerevarine returns as a ghost with no flesh.
"In caverns dark Azura's eye sees, and makes to shine the moon and star." This one Nibani seems to know something about, but wouldn't speak of it. There is a cavern called 'the Shrine of the Incarnate', but I'm not allowed to ask about it. She did tell me that Nerevar bore some sort of moon and star marking, but some people say it was a birthmark while others say it was a ring or other token. In any event I don't have it and since I can't ask about this shrine I see no way to get it.
"A strangers voice unites the houses. Three halls call him Hortator." At least this one is easy to figure out. Three of the five great houses are represented on Vvardenfell. In times of dire crisis the great houses suspend their usual rivalries and unite under the authority of a Hortator; a sort of war leader. Understandable, but clearly beyond me. House Hlaalu is basically under the control of the Cammona Tong. Those bigots are not going to accept an outlander Hortator. They hate all outlanders, and me more than most.
"A stranger's hand unites the Velothi. Four tribes call him Nerevarine." This has to refer to the four tribes of the Ashlanders. From what Hassour has said the other three tribes aren't even sure they believe in a Nerevarine. What would make them believe, and what would even begin to make them believe in an outlander Nerevarine?
"He honors blood of the tribe unmourned. He eats their sin, and is reborn." Nibani guesses that the 'tribe unmourned' would be house Dagoth, but it might be the Dwemer. As to atoning for the vast sins of either one she offers no clue.
"His mercy frees the cursed false gods, binds the broken, redeems the mad." 'False Gods' no doubt refers to the tribunal, but again there is no clue as to what they need to be free of. At last report Vivec is in his palace, not a prison, and the other two don't seem to be complaining either.
Whatever my part is, I have to think it does not involve passing these trials. What I can do is find what Nibani calls the lost prophecies. Caius and his contacts in the temple should be able to find a way to put me in touch with the dissident priests.
Day Ninety-four: Journey to Sheogorad
The ruins Edwinna wants me to explore are at Mzuleft, on the main island of Sheogorad. Sheogorad lies off the north coast. They are untamed; a wilderness that provides a buffer between Vvardenfell and the Sea of Ghosts. Off the shore near the Urshilaku camp the chain has dwindled down to nothing more than a scattering of fang like rocks rising above the sea. My intent was to travel along the coast until I could cross to a major island, then work along the chain to the main island. An outpost called Dagon Fel lies near the ruins, and I thought I could make it in a day. I almost made it, but not as planned.
I awoke to the sound of hide slamming against poles. Nibani Maesa had allowed me to pitch my bedroll in her yurt. The howling wind threatened to collapse it over us. She laughed as I sat bolt upright. "It is a sturdy tent Arvil Bren, fit for the Nerevarine himself," she said. I took a brief glance out at the swirling ash and dust and changed my plan. Just as well.
My recall spell again took me home to Pelagiad and Ahnassi's house. The first benefit of my changed plan was seeing her. She had acquired an appropriate scabbard for me, and the great sword Magebane now rides across my back. Though cracking mudcrabs and slaying rats is certainly beneath the dignity of such a fine weapon it provided good practice throughout the day.
I hiked into Balmora. The clear skies and sunshine of the Ascadian Isles was even more enjoyable than usual after the brief taste of ashstorm. Caius was impressed by the Bone-biter bow and my new status among the Ashlanders. We read over the notes I had taken, and he was amazed by the idea that I could possibly become the real Nerevarine rather than the copy that I was originally intended to be. The trials did set him back however. "Well that explains why Nerevarines don't just fall off the trees," he said with a shrug. He agreed to contact Mehra Milo and start setting me up to meet the dissident priests. He also gave me some useful advice regarding my mission to Sheogorad.
When my meeting with the spymaster was complete I went to the guild hall. I did not want to face Edwinna, or the Ashstorm that would likely still be blowing between Ald-ruhn and the coast. Caius let me know that I didn't need to. I took the guild guide to Sidrith Mora, capital of the Telvanni district, and took ship directly to Dagon Fel. I sleep tonight in comfort, safe on the rolling sea, and will see the sun rise over Dagon Fel tomorrow.
Day Ninety-five:Mzuleft
The ship docked at Dagon Fel as I rose this morning. I had heard nothing very good about this tiny village, but as always one has to see for themselves. I found the people friendly and the village sturdy. The location is obviously highly desirable as it has been occupied, and fought over, for millennia. Beneath the foundations of the present village lie the remains of Nord fishermen who settled here in a time long beyond reckoning. They were driven out by the Dunmer or the Dwemer, and the site changed hands between them frequently until the disappearance of the Dwemer left it to the administration of the Temple. The Empire has brought new life to the fallow site, and in the cycle of time the modern village is home to fishermen; mostly Nords.
I was warned to not be fooled by the beauty of the surrounding wilderness or the peacefulness of the village. Sheogorad is untamed and even the roads must be traveled with caution. When I asked a guard, a member of the Imperial Legion, for directions to Mzuleft he gave them grudgingly. The island is dotted with ancient ruins and other sites of interest. In his opinion many of them are much safer to visit. When I insisted that my task called for Mzuleft and no other site would do he sent me on my way with a reminder that outside the confines of the village I should expect no rescue from the Legion.
It did not take long for his pessimism to prove to be warranted. There is a beast that roams the plane of the Daedra called a hunger. They feed on metals and have a strong taste for enchanted metals particularly, so they are sometimes summoned for use in war and other conflict. A group of them driven into the enemy formations can wreck havoc, disintegrating weapons right out of their hands and the armor off of their backs. I have no idea how one of these voracious creatures came to be wandering loose on this mortal plane, but there he was.
The hunger had set itself up at a crossroads, and was obviously well fed. The litter of straps, scabbards, and other bits and pieces indicated that many unwary travelers had left prize possessions to be consumed. Occasional bones marked those who had not given up on some rapidly deteriorated weapon and been struck down by the sharp claws for their efforts. I slipped into the shadow of a jumble of boulders and watched the pacing monster to get a feel for its movements.
It had a definite lair. Off the road a bit, but with easy access. If someone came along it could lurk there unseen until they were well within its range. With no one in sight the creature shuffled about, walking on two legs though hunched far over, shuffling through the fallen remnants for tidbits left from previous meals. I made a slow stealthy approach, and struck the hunger from behind before it could weaken my spear. Though it did do some damage before it thrashed out the last of its life, I suffered no loss or damage that a few minutes at the forge can't repair. Fearsome creatures from the Daedric and elemental planes just wandering the countryside. I may never complain about cliff racers again.
When I reached the ruins I found them taken over by Orcs; warriors and barbarians, heavily armed. I was very glad that the hunger had not badly damaged the Dwemer metal of my spear, and that I had enchanted it with the frost spell that I did. A minor wound or even a thrust completely blocked by armor left my foes stricken with a piercing cold that numbed the limbs and cracked the heavy green skin. Fortunately the Orcs were stupid in their lust for battle and charged recklessly as fast as they arrived at the scene. Had they just tried to hold me at bay and defend themselves until they could all strike together after the first bellowing war cry alerted them I would have been in serious trouble. As it happened they fell in ones and twos as my spear caked with their frozen blood.
I feel much better about the fortune in silver weapons that I abandoned in the burial caverns. Orcish smiths make some of the most prized armor and weapons, and I teleported home so heavily laden that I couldn't move a step. I even made a necklace out of great gears of Dwemer metal. They were on the floor, not really supported by the cord around my neck, but that was sufficient for my recall spell to catch them in its field. Ahnassi was amused, but Mebestian will be very pleased with my ingenuity. Five hundred pounds of raw Dwemer metal will fetch a good price. The plans and an ancient Dwemer book were probably the greatest treasures in the ruin, but of course they had been passed over by the stupid Orcs.
Day Ninety-six: New ruins
I delivered the Scarab blueprint to Edwinna today. She was greatly pleased, not only with the plans but that I showed up at exactly the right moment. She had the guild hall was in an uproar.
I got up this morning expecting a fairly peaceful day. Ahnassi and I shared a quiet breakfast. I am truly in love with my tiger woman. She went to Mebestian's shop before he was open for business. He lives upstairs, and she brought him back to the house. Over soothing tea brewed from hackle-lo leaf we negotiated a fair price for the latest load of Dwemer artifacts. He took what he could, limited by what he could pay for as well as what he could carry. Over the next couple weeks he will be stopping by to pick up the rest from Ahnassi.
Pelagiad is perfectly located. I have found that my intervention spell, used for teleporting to the nearest temple will take me to Vivec if I am on the south side of the main street, but by the simple crossing of the street I am closer to Balmora. One of the benefits of Pelagiad as a place to stay out of site is that it has no ready access to fast transportation; no silt strider, no guild guides, no port. Only traffic from the main road passes through, mostly traders leading pack guar or herdsmen. Not the idle travelers that could turn out to be Dark Brotherhood assassins. Having my magic mark set in the house is the only thing that gives me the ready access that I have.
Anyway, I avoided making an appearance in Balmora, where I would likely be recognized, by teleporting into the throngs of pilgrims and functionaries of teeming Vivec City. Again, I am thankful for Ahnassi. I told her my plan, and my reasoning...and she purred softly but looked perplexed. "My love, you go this way to Vivec to avoid recognition, yes?" she asked. I nodded. "I have a gift. A fine common brown robe for you to wear." The Khajiit are very sensitive to feelings, and she did not want to offend me, but I could tell by the light dancing in her eyes that there was more to this disguise than met the eye.
My eye, not hers. I looked down at myself. Indoril boots, made of chitinous shells bound with hardened resins, gleaming a deep blue. Armored leggings reinforced with the bright green fibers of Red Mountain's volcanic glass. Breastplate made from the ruddy hide of a dreugh and the golden glow of Dwemer metal bracers on my forearms completed the rainbow. I wanted to be inconspicuous, but looked like I had gotten seperated from my circus. When I looked back at the delicately stripped face we both collapsed with laughter. I took the robe.
The hike across Vivec was interesting, as always, but uneventful, and I hurried through the guild hall. The petty jealousies there seem to have cooled. My promotion by the Archmage was well earned, I think, and despite the generally low morale of his staff they are coming to accept that he may have been right for once. I was quite happy though to transport on to Ald-ruhn.
I had no sooner appeared on the guild guide platform than Erranil was shouting. "Edwinna! Edwinna! Arvil Bren is here!" Then she muttered "thank the divines, maybe now she will calm down." With that as a herald I stepped into the mayhem, hoping the plans in my hand would shield me from whatever was going on. They didn't. My arrival did get everyone else off the hook though.
Edwinna snatched them with a quick word of thanks and continued without stopping for breath, "You are just in time! A new ruin has been discovered! Someone needs to get over there right away and recover any critical artifacts before some dreugh clawed barbarian with the brain of a mudcrab sells them to a smuggler for a jug of sujamma!" I could tell by the way the local guild hall staff were slipping quietly into corners that they were thankful her 'someone' had taken form other than them. There was no question that I was the one she now had firmly in mind. "The kwama broke into it from the Gnissis egg mine. The legion there has been apparently keeping it quiet. The Deathshead garrison there is mostly conscripts and Orcs so they certainly can't be trusted with such a find. Go at once! Take the silt strider to Gnissis and get down in that egg mine."
"Edwinna, if I get riding around on a silt strider the Dark Brotherhood is sure to pick up my trail," I protested.
She smiled a cold smile. "You've handled their petty assassins before Arvil Bren, and this is important. Our scuttleheaded Archmage doesn't understand the importance of my research, but I thought you did." The smile turned from cold to dazzling in an instant. I suspect some amount of magica went into a charm spell but I didn't actually catch it. Edwinna didn't get to be a guild hall steward without a powerful command of spellcraft. The next thing I knew I was on my way to the strider port.
I slipped into the Gnissis temple as quickly and quietly as I could. It's a good thing I joined the temple. They were happy to provide a bed for the night, and among the pilgrims that come and go here I may be able to remain out of sight; for one night at least.
Day Ninety-seven: The Gnissis egg mine
Gnissis is a very tense place. House Redoran is very traditional. They strongly support the temple, but there is an undercurrent of sympathy towards the even older ways of ancestor worship. The presence of significant temple shrines in Gnissis and the surrounding area made it difficult for the temple to turn jurisdiction over to the Redorans. The Empire, in their usual overbearing way, has built a fort here in the questionable guise of keeping the peace. To some extent it worked, the Redorans and the Temple are united in their unhappiness with this turn of events.
The demands on the Legion left General Darius with few options. To garrison the new fort he has had to find soldiers as best he could. Monsters flowing out of Red Mountain are providing a lucrative market for mercenaries familiar with Vvardenfell as well as occupying the locals who have a heroic bent, so recruiting is difficult. Orcs, fresh from the mountains of the far west, have been inducted into the Legion in droves, and swell the ranks in backwater posts like Gnissis. A horde of green skinned barbarians unfamiliar with Vvardenfell's factions and subtleties perhaps raises more tension than it eases. Just keeping order in the ranks is a challenge I'm sure. I don't think the General was even aware of the discovery of the Dwemer ruin.
The mine has been closed to the public due to the kwama queen contracting the blight. The miners are allowed limited access to work, and there is a thriving black market for kwama eggs, but the export trade is completely stopped. The port is idle, adding to the economic woes of the underworked miners. The legion has a guard posted at the locked door of the mine. Although he was reasonably courteous it was clear that to get the key from him would involve a display that would have roused the entire garrison. The armored Orcs roaming the streets would surely respond without even limited courtesy.
It seemed I was at an impasse. I was sure that taking on the legion garrison was not what Edwinna had in mind, and it certainly didn't strike me as a good idea. I had lunch at the tradehouse after a morning of fruitless inquiries. My fortunes rose as I ate.
Though priced high, the tradehouse menu did offer kwama egg fare. The proprietor was not the most open source, but a few drakes slipped across the counter got me a recommendation about someone who 'might know a bit' about where eggs could be had. I set off to find a Hainab Lasamsi, an unemployed Dunmer who had opted out of the egg mine completely rather than scraping along on the limited work being allowed.
Hainab was not hard to find. The unveiled hatred passing between him and the Orcs of the garrison arced through the air like lightning as he passed through the streets. Just being seen talking to him seemed like a bad idea. I managed to walk near enough to say "I'd like to propose some business, but not the kind your admirers would approve. Can we get out of sight?" He gave the slightest nod, and I went to a nearby merchant's open air stall to watch him surreptitiously. He wandered idly, but eventually drifted out of town to the south. I continued my shopping until the guards had eased into more relaxed postures, then followed at my own leisurely pace.
As I walked along a trail by the river the dark elf leapt out of the brush. It was not an ambush, but he was clearly wanting to show that it could have been. Our negotiations did not start well. "The loss of output from your mine is causing concern among some...associates," I began.
He cut me off. "Your words fall from your mouth like the droppings of a guar outlander. There are a hundred egg mines in Vvardenfell, all bursting at the seams with eggs that have no transport to market. The ships do not come for fear of the blight. There is no shortage of eggs to keep the legion from closing us down, and your 'associates' have no concern for our problems. Tell me the truth of your business or I will be throwing your bones to the slaughterfish."
Perceptive, better informed, and straight to the point; I hated him, briefly. After some frank discussion though we realized we had mutual interests. One Orc in particular presented a serious problem to Hainab's new business, and that particular Orc was going to be an unavoidable obstacle in my search for the ruins.
Hainab was among the first miners to recognize that the burrowing kwama had broken into something special. His first thought was that all the miners were going to be rich, as perhaps by right they should have been. But the Orcs of the garrison had been quick to point out that Dwemer artifacts were property of the Emperor despite the standard mining agreements that said the workers of a mine would split any and all profits from unusual finds. Their leader in fact, though not rank; a former warrior chieftain whose fractious nature kept him from rising in the legion, established a plan to smuggle the artifacts away that was supposed to enrich everyone involved. In practice only the Orcs profited. Claims that the ruins had yielded little; threats to blame everything on the miners; fierce beatings from armored warriors; the miners were a down trodden lot with no recourse. Hainab turned to smuggling eggs out of the mines.
Our paths crossed at the Orc leader. This villain had established himself in the lowest levels of the egg mine near the entrance to the ruins, where he could turn away any investigation by the miners. He had a bedroll, and apparently his minions covered his duties and kept him supplied; mostly with liquor as he could get fat from the vast supply of kwama eggs and scrib jelly in the inoperative mine. Hainab knew of a secret entrance to the mines, by way of an underground stream, but slinking past the Orc with his loads of eggs was a constant risk. He revealed the entrance to me, and gave me directions to the ruins. The only catch in this generous sharing being that his directions included one unmistakable landmark; the Orc.
The trek through the submerged passage was long, and I was still dripping when I met the enemy. There was no question of negotiation. I was there to kill him, and since I was obviously no passing miner he was set on killing me. The battle was short and viscous. He did not seem as skilled with his longsword as I expected, and the Legion armor he wore was heavier than the Orcish mail to which he was no doubt accustomed. The ebony lifetaker, my shortsword that draws life from those it strikes and channels it into healing magic for me , made short work of him. I think he was probably drunk, though with an Orc that can be hard to tell.
The ruins have been stripped of artifacts, but fortunately only the Orcs of the garrison were involved. A book, written in Dwemer, lay discarded under a dusty table. Being Orcs they probably pushed it aside in their hurry to claim the glittering baubles of Dwemer metal, not realizing that to a scholar the book would be far more valuable. I will be keeping it for myself. With the translation key that I found these ancient texts may provide the solution to the riddle of the Dwemer's disappearance. Edwinna will be happy enough without the book. Inside the cover, folded and brittle, I found a set of plans that seem to be for some sort of mechanical netch. It appears to be designed to float through the air. I can only guess what she will make of that.
The strider will be arriving in Ald-ruhn shortly. I will take straight to my bed. It has been a long day.
Day Ninety-eight: Lure of the enchanting lab
This morning I delivered the airship blueprint to Edwinna. I should have waited until after breakfast. She disappeared into her chambers muttering something about cogs and power cells and may not emerge to eat for days. At her door she turned as if stirred by sudden memory. "Arvil, talk to Tanar. You need a plan." Tanar Llervi has her quarters and lab downstairs. She is a Dunmer, a highly skilled enchanter, and an able smith who makes her own weapons at a full forge in her enchanting lab. Her laboratory is envied throughout the mage's guild in Vvardenfell. I shrugged and went to find her.
I told her what Edwinna had said, and about the blueprint I had brought. "Well, she will be no help," Tanar said. "She knows she got you into this mess too. Two men were here yesterday; outlanders. They didn't ask directly about you, just said they needed a mage for hire. Specified they needed someone who was familiar with weapons as well, like a battlemage or a nightblade; a heavy hitter. By the time they were done there was no one that could suit them but you. Edwinna told them there was no one in the local who could suit their needs and they left, but they were seen asking around the strider port and then they settled in over at the Rat in the Pot. We had them watched. They were taking turns out in the streets until late last night; watching. Watching for you."
Two of them. My blood ran cold. After so many failures the Dark Brotherhood is sending out their assassins in pairs. "Were they ever left alone in the guild hall?"
She nodded and bit her lip. "I'm sorry. They bought some minor enchantments before they started asking questions. One of them said he had a money belt under his robes and asked if I could step out while he took out the gold to pay me. Everything in my lab is locked so I saw no harm stepping into my quarters."
We joined the others at breakfast. Tanar got everyone's attention, then told them "Edwinna is secluded in her library. Arvil Bren the conjurer is the ranking guild member here, and we have a problem." She turned to me, and everyone else did too.
My mouth opened once, twice, a third time. Finally I thought of something to say. I just followed the hall steward's lead. "We need a plan." Once I got going it was pretty easy to outline the problem. "Two Dark Brotherhood assassins are very likely to appear tonight in Tanar's lab. They will be looking for me, but no doubt they intend to kill her and anyone else that gets in their way. One option is that I could leave town. If I depart in an obvious enough fashion they will very likely follow, but if they don't keep track of me they will likely recall to their marker here. As you know I have some experience fighting these assassins. Two of them popping up in the depth of the night is not something to look forward to, or a possibility you can ignore. I would rather fight them here and now than leave you to contend with them. Think."
Ideas came and withered under scrutiny, but eventually something took form. By lunchtime the details seemed to have been ironed out. Tanar and one of the Ashlander students wandered off to the Rat in the Pot to put the plan in motion. Apparently it worked. On a high stool at a worktable in her lab perched a sack of grain, supporting the inconspicuous brown robe Ahnassi had pressed on me. My hair, bound in its usual guar tail, adorned a gourd set on the top. It will grow back I suppose, but having it cut off was a sacrifice made only under extreme duress. A scattering of books on the table, with one open binding the robe sleeves by the cuffs in a mostly natural position completed the scene. It was far from perfect, but provided a distraction in the brief disorientation that follows a teleportation spell.
Tanar laid it on thick, complaining to her lunch companion about being ousted from her lab by that 'arrogant conjurer'. Her complaint included that all I was doing was reading, nose buried so deep in my books that I hadn't even responded when she stormed out of the room. She presented me as an appealing bait, then set the hook by concluding 'at least he will be gone by tonight. He never sleeps here any more since that assassin tried to get him. No one really knows where he goes at night, but at least it's somewhere other than here."
I could have stayed all night in the cramped cabinet I suppose, but I was very pleased when the soft pop of a teleportation spell sounded in the room early in the afternoon. I quickly cast my most powerful protective spell, then called upon the barkskin spell of my Breton heritage as I sprang from the cabinet. A slashing wakizashi had just shattered the gourd, scattering my sacrificed hair, and the second assassin was popping into place in the center of the room. I rammed my spear through him cleanly before he even had his bearings, shreds of heart meat frozen to the spearhead as it burst from his chest.
The first assassin, not pleased with having slain the gourd and grain sack, spun into a defensive crouch. His Daedric wakizashi rang off my shield as I drew the ebony lifetaker. The duel was challenging, but the outcome was fixed by magic and preparation. With my defenses at their peak it was almost beyond even his great skills to inflict any damage, while every minor wound my opponent received augmented my own health. Healing magic actually collected around me, restoring my wounds as fast as I received them. Soon a second black clad body sprawled on the floor.
I left Tanar a set of the black chainmail for her part in the plan, and brought the other here to Balmora. Galbedir may not have as fine a lab, but the guild in Balmora has accumulated some powerfully charged soul gems. I have been practicing the slashing style of the wakizashi, and even though I am very pleased with my ebony lifetaker shortsword I could not pass up the opportunity having two Daedric blades in my possession presented.
My own skills as an enchanter are sufficient for some things, but I destroy a lot of soul gems in the process of getting one to take. Fine with lesser gems, but the rare and powerful gems I will leave in the hands of the experts. I traded one of the immensely valuable Daedric wakizashi to Galbedir. One thing that makes Daedric weapons so valuable is there propensity to enchantment. They can hold a far more powerful spell than any other weapon. Galbedir, in her turn, used a powerful gem and enchanted my remaining wakizashi for me. The Daedric Lifestealer; it is a masterpiece.
Day Ninety-nine: Paranoid or protective?
I woke this morning with the deep satisfaction of success. I think I will have at least a little time before the Dark Brotherhood tries again. When they do I will meet them with their own Daedric weapon, charged with an enchantment that I probably could not have afforded without the supply of priceless weaponry that they seem willing to throw into their assault. It started out a good day. Still a good day in the end, but the slippery slopes of Mage Guild politics seem to be reaching out to grab me.
Ranis called me into her office as soon as I had finished breakfast. The attentions of Galbedir and Ajira have cooled somewhat in light of my lack of response, but since I am keeping Ahnassi and my life in Pelagiad deeply hidden from the danger of the Dark Brotherhood there is still a pleasant undercurrent here. I was smiling when I passed through her door, even though I anticipated an unpleasant task. I underestimated how unpleasant it might be.
Ranis is not known for subtlety or slow build ups; "I believe there is a Telvanni spy in the guild; in a position of significant influence in the guild."
"Hold on Ranis. If this is headed towards me going to some guild hall and killing someone in cold blood and plain sight you are really going to have to come up with some hard evidence. Hard evidence and approval from someone..." I trailed off. I couldn't think whose approval would suffice; Archmage Trebonius maybe?
"I'm not talking about killing anyone," she protested. "Alright, I have said that often enough before, but really I don't want any action taken. I just want you to find me some of that hard evidence you would be looking for if I did want action taken."
"Then you would want me to take the action. No deal Ranis. I want no part of this. Tashpi was no necromancer. You could have sent me to get her to join the guild. There was something personal there but I took you at your word that her dying was guild business. Now you are on the hunt for a spy. Why?"
"To protect the guild! Okay. There were better ways to handle Tashpi. Maybe better ways to handle a lot of things. But that doesn't change that House Telvanni would destroy the guild in Morrowind if they get half a chance. There is a spy. That arrogant buffoon Trebonius refuses to see it; refuses to see anything going on. We Dunmer live ten times longer than you or him. The Telvanni plan, and move, and grind away at us. I want to find the spy to discredit Trebonius further. I admit that too. But that is also for the good of the guild. He is a disaster as the Archmage of Vvardenfell. I need your help. Not to discredit Trebonius, but to guard us against a Dunmer Great House that he does not understand."
I sighed. I squirmed. The red eyes bored into me. "I'll investigate Ranis. But so help me I am not gonna kill anybody over this." Then I looked her square in the eye. "And I let Tashpi go. She is fleeing to the mainland. She is no necromancer so I didn't kill her for being one. If there is something I should legitimately kill her for tell me before she gets off of Vvardenfell and I will track her down. If you want her dead as a personal grudge hire an assassin." She did not move. "Sorry I lied about killing her."
She nodded slightly. "I'm sorry I lied about her being a necromancer. You have come a long way since you walked in that door Arvil. A long way indeed." I wasn't sure if she meant the first time I walked in the door, or if she meant just in the few minutes since I came in and sat down today. Either one would be true I think.
We went over everyone in Ald-ruhn. I have spent a lot of time there, and really didn't think there was a spy. Ranis slowly came to agree. Edwinna runs the guild hall as a reflection of herself, and she steers clear of intrigue. Since she keeps herself so far removed Ald-ruhn would not be a very effective place for a spy to exert any influence. Then I brought up Ranis' own hall. It was easy to see her bristle, but she nodded. "My ego says that could not happen here, but this is for the guild not my ego." But in the end we agreed no one in Balmora fit as a spy for the Telvanni. Caldera? A new hall, struggling to get established, not fertile ground for intrigue. That left Sadrith Mora, a thorn in the heart of the Telvanni capital; or the headquarters itself in Vivic City. I came to Sadrith Mora first.
I couldn't just barge into the hall and start looking for spies. I've done a couple favors for Skink-in-trees-shade, the Argonian steward of the hall, but I am far from well known here. The guild is quartered in the Imperial fortress called Wolverine Hall, and space is at a premium. Skink suggested that it would be best if I stayed in the town proper for the duration of my stay, and that to stay in the town I would need Telvanni hospitality papers. More like lack of hospitality papers. As an outlander mage and member of the Imperial Mage's Guild I feel lucky to have not been attacked in the street. The open hostility of the Telvanni certainly supports Ranis' theories.
The papers come from the proprietor of the Gateway Inn, which is the only place anyone who is not a Telvanni retainer is allowed to stay. All very inconvenient, but at least it is all in one place. Telvanni architecture involves growing huge trees that have naturally hollow stems, which are trained and distorted into corridors and rooms. The curving grace is nice from the outside, inside it is a twisting maze. Finding my way through the maze of the Inn left me hoping not to have to enter any more buildings, but that was a vain hope.
Everyone in the Gateway Inn it seems is talking about the haunting, including the very irritable proprietor. A fine room called the south turret room has been rendered uninhabitible by a spirit. The spirit can be driven away, but returns in very short order. Rumor has it that it has been slain over a thousand times. Thinking that it would soften my reception a bit I offered to take a look at the problem. My mistake; I was summarily accused of arrogance among questions regarding my ancestry. Mage Mistress Arara Uvulas, I was told, has already looked into it. Where this expert had not found the source of the haunting it was easy to dismiss me out of hand I suppose. Instead of searching for the spy I found myself searching for Arara Uvulas at the Telvanni Council Chambers; a veritable rat warren of passages.
Arara Uvulas is a mouth. The Telvanni councilors are far too busy and self important to actually attend council meetings, so they are represented by mouths who speak for them. What happens if a mouth says the wrong thing I have no idea. She represents Master Neloth, who can't attend despite the fact that he lives right here in Sadrith Mora. I am not impressed with the Telvanni. Once I had the worthy mouth's attention she told me what she had determined about the haunting. She found no sign of a restless spirit or ancestral influences; not surprising since the Gateway Inn has not been there all that long. She said that banishing the ghost was easy; which I had already done once myself. A slave told me he had beaten the spirit out of existence with a broom once, just for sport. Then she got to the crux of the matter; she had no idea why it kept coming back and suggested consulting an expert in the school of conjuration. I wanted to say 'no kidding, wish I'd thought of that', but I don't think mouths are chosen for their sense of humor.
Rather than root around the plant buildings of the city looking for a conjuration expert I returned to the guild hall, where I should have been looking all along. While everyone seemed quite amused by the problem, Uleni Heleran laughed more than anyone. Coincidentally she offers training in conjurations among her other services. Not coincidentally actually. Uleni conjured the Gateway haunt herself, as retaliation for an incident regarding hospitality papers. I offered to forget about it. No one else had identified the source of the haunting and I had no desire to turn her in. She was of a different mind and gave me some forged 'hospitality papers' for the ghost. She instructed me to give them to Angeredhel with her compliments. I will wait until morning. I don't think he will appreciate the joke, and my room is uncomfortable enough already.
Day One Hundred: Spy revealed
I joined the mage guild to cover my activities for Caius. I quickly found myself enjoying the camaraderie. I have benefited greatly from the experience and training of my fellows. I have collected dues and compelled recruits; done favors for all manner of wizard. I never thought it would come to this.
I returned to the Sadrith Mora guild hall in time for breakfast. We all had a good laugh over Angaredhel's spluttering response to the ghost's hospitality papers. Though I spent little time there I did get comfortable with the members in Sadrith Mora. When Skink-in-trees-shade said there was no spy in his hall I had to agree. I was actually doubting that there was a spy at all, but the wily Argonian squelched that thought. The hall in Sadrith Mora could legitimately be said to be in enemy territory, and he is the steward. I accepted his view that the Telvanni certainly had a spy in the guild, if not more than one. In his opinion the spy would be in the main hall in Vivec City, where the decisions are made that affect the guild throughout Vvardenfell. I had been avoiding Vivec's hall since I am not overly popular there, but after the frosty reception by the Telvanni the welcome seemed positively warm.
With Skink's suspicions backing up Ranis I decided to approach Trebonius directly upon my arrival in Vivec City. The Archmage scoffed. That pompous blowhard would not even discuss the matter, saying that his advisor on Dunmer matters, Tiram Gadar keeps an eye out for that sort of thing. An excellent watch keeper no doubt, but I had the temerity to ask if he could be trusted completely. Trebonius spluttered with rage.
"I am the Archmage!!" he shouted. "Do you think I wouldn't know if there was a spy in my own hall? Ranis has twisted your mind with her paranoid delusions." He flung a dry parchment in front of me. "Do you see that? Tiram comes recommended by Ocato the Battlemage! I suppose next you would question Ocato himself!" With that the Archmage of Vvardenfell stalked off. I didn't bother to tell him that even as the credentials lay scattered on the table I could see there was no need to question Ocato. The signature on the recommendation was misspelled. Rather than try to confront the Archmage with a reality he did not want to see I gathered the papers and returned to Balmora.
Ranis and I agreed on a number of things. The first I appreciated greatly. We were not going to kill Timar Gadar. By we I mean Ranis was not going to give the order and I was not going to march into the largest guild hall in Vvardenfell and kill Timar, even if he was a spy. Ranis, much to my surprise, did not want him dead anyway.
The next thing we agreed on was that in the right hands this credential with the misspelled signature from the the Imperial battlemage could be used to shatter Trebonius delicate credibility as the Archmage of Vvardenfell. Ranis as steward of the hall could easily get it to the highest levels of the guild hierarchy. Quite possibly Trebonius would be recalled to Cyrodiil. I was mad enough at the pompous fool that I was in favor of this course. Again to my surprise Ranis disagreed.
"Arvil," she said, "they would just send someone else with no knowledge of Morrowind. And they might send someone far more actively meddlesome than the scuttlehead we have now. Better to stick with what we have for a while and get what we want than have someone new that hasn't given us the means to get rid of him." She rustled the papers that were still gripped in her hand.
A glimmer of her plan broke through the haze in my brain. I thought it did anyway. "Knowledge of Morrowind; you have plenty of that. Are you angling to be the next Archmage Ranis?"
She smiled a rueful smile. "No Arvil, I'm not. I am ambitious, and I think I could serve the guild well, but they would not have a Dunmer take that office. We live too long and could accumulate too much power here in our own land. No, not me; and not some fresh Imperial favorite. The guild stewards in Vvardenfell need to stand up and agree on an Archmage that would serve well for us and still be acceptable to the guild."
"Edwinna?" I asked half-heartedly. I could not imagine her getting that involved in guild politics.
"No, she would not want to leave her research. And Skink in Sadrith Mora is a fine guardian for our interests in hostile Telvanni territory but an Argonian certainly wouldn't be able to manage our interests. The other Houses would hate him as much as the Telvanni, unfortunately. Edwinna and I have been talking, and we have agreed on someone both of us could support. The staff in Vivec would support anyone who supplanted Trebonius. Skink is not sure yet."
"Not sure about who?" I asked. I couldn't think of anyone else who was anywhere near the rank or skill to be the next Archmage. I also had no idea why I was being taken into this high level of counsel.
"Arvil, you need to get to know Skink better," she said. It felt like the floor was slipping out from under my chair. "And you really need to improve your spellcraft. You won't be able to hold the staff of office if you are clutching that spear all the time."
I rose before dawn and took the guild guide transport to Ald-ruhn, where I slipped out of town under cover of darkness and my amulet's strong chameleon spell. The long hike into the Ashlands is wearing. I wish I could take the silt strider to Maar Gan, but I don't want to leave any trail for the Dark Brotherhood. In fact I avoided Maar Gan completely, and all other outposts of civilization.
How to describe the wide grey expanses of the Ashlands? Hard black rock rises like the exposed bones of some great dead beast; sometimes a ridge, like a spine; sometimes a series of sharp pinnacles, like grasping claws. Trama vines eke their living from the wastes, writhing to the surface as fast as the mighty dust storms can bury them. Lichen grows on the surface of rocks on the side away from Red Mountain. Anchored against the wind it could cover the stones, but the storms scour the faces, leaving them pitted and scarred.
It is a harsh land, and home to harsh creatures. Cliff racers soar from their high aeries to scavenge vast territories; or kill. Northern Kagouti may be even dumber than their cousins in the lush southern regions, though that is a cold judgment. The two that charged me as I passed today showed the effects of their environment, but can hardly be blamed for suffering the difficulties they were born into. They are thinner, with heavier hides protecting them from the scourging sands, and if possible even worse dispositions.
I think the best fit creature for the Ashlands is the shalk beetle. They are about the size of a man, but scurrying low on their six legs they are better able to weather the winds. Their thick black carapace affords protection from the grating sands, and the ravages of cliff racers. The shell is thinner underneath, and a hungry enterprising racer may strike to flip them over, but they are well equipped for offense as well. As they charge they spew a cloud of burning stinging mist. It is best to kill them before they get close, but can be difficult as their shell is some proof against arrows. Fortunately, a shot that damages a foreleg, or severs a somewhat vulnerable antenna can completely disrupt their charge, leaving them skidding across the sands.
Tonight I am camped among these creatures, and I suspect sleep will be fitful at best. In the morning I will reenter the burial caverns. I will emerge a clanfriend, or not at all.
Day Ninety-two: Spirit of Sul-Senipul
I rose from my fitful slumber shortly after dawn and quaffed a restorative potion to make up for the lost sleep. A small pile of crumbly dry trama vine and a flame spell, a kwama egg fried on my steel shield, toast with scrib jelly, and I was ready to face my fate.
As Hassour had predicted new skeletal sentinels had taken their posts in the entry tunnel. Expecting their presence I crept in hidden by my chameleon amulet and let fly with a barrage of arrows. I have found that skeletal warriors are best dealt with by targeting the pelvic bones. The broad flat bones offer a fair target, and a bone splintering impact from an iron broadhead can knock them completely off their bony feet. With that initial advantage I dispatched many of my adversaries without actually having to cross blades with their mighty silver claymores.
Beyond the entry tunnel I found a large water filled cavern. Stalagtites from an earlier drier age broke the surface, providing a path that could be followed by nimble leaping or levitation. I crossed carefully, not wanting to find out what lurked in the still waters. Burial urns and mummies adorned numerous outcrops and niches in the stone walls. I didn't know how I would recognize Sul-Senipul, but this cavern seemed to have been used long centuries before so I did not expect to find Sul-Matuul's father there. Rising slightly from the far side of the lake a tunnel led into the next cavern.
I continued on, knowing that I was already deep below ground. The next cavern confirmed that, as the top of the eerily lit dome closed high above my head. Water tumbled down from far above, pooling around the base of a great pile of jumbled stone that rose in the center to meet the vault far above. Precarious ramps led upward in a haphazard spiral. As I scaled upwards I kept the command word for my levitating boots on the tip of my tongue.
Four burial chambers open from the great central dome. I peered into them briefly as I passed, but I could see that far above there were ledges that held mummified remains. I thought that perhaps the central cavern could be a place of honor appropriate for the latest Urshilaku chiefs. When I completed the climb the dust of ages once again indicated that this chamber had been used many generations ago. It was definitely worth the climb though. Clutched against the chest of an ancient corpse I found the Magebane sword. This powerful and beautiful relic is forged from the volcanic glass of Red Mountain and adorned with precious metals. It would be worth a fortune, even without the powerful enchantments that protect the wielder from magical attack. I may have to get instruction in the art of combat with a two handed sword, just so I can have the experience of using such a blade.
Hassour's instruction rang in my ears. I had abandoned dozens of the silver weapons brought from the undead plane by the skeletal guardians, but Magebane was different. It was as if the ancient weapon whispered to me, demanding to be free of the tomb of its previous master. I slung the sword across my back, surprised at how light it is for such a massive weapon. Light, but still an addition to my load that I hoped would not undo my quest.
I explored the burial vaults until I found the object of my quest. A stone temple shelters the remains of the recently deceased chieftain and offers his spirit a haunting ground. A ground that gave the shade a distinct advantage. Before I had any chance to see it lurking in the shadowy heights the ghost unleashed the power of the Bone-biter. Great bolts of magic blasted down on me, draining the agility from my limbs. My own bow fell from my suddenly clumsy grasp, and as the specter swooped to the attack I was afraid to dodge for fear of stumbling to the floor. Ghostly arrows clattered off my armor or pierced deep into my flesh. I dropped to my knees, huddling behind my steel shield and calling forth the healing enchantment within it, then gulping a potion brewed to dispel magical effects.
With my coordination restored I rose to face the angry spirit. "Revered ancestor, I would choose not to harm you, and mean no harm to your people, but I must take your bow back into the light of day and deliver it to your son." I dove and rolled to one knee with my own enchanted bow back in my hands. When I enchanted my bow I never would have anticipated this moment. My Bowes magic is an exact counter for the Bone-biter, fortifying the agility of the wielder rather than diminishing that of the target. We exchanged spells until both weapons sputtered, the magica pent up in their souls spent.
"Sul-Senipul, I did not come here to steal your weapon from the Urshilaku, but to restore it to hands that can use it every day. I fear you, and the judgment of the ancestors, but the quest given by Sul-Matuul must be completed. I would leave your spirit here, where it can guide the clan and continue to serve, but if there is no other way I will dispatch you back to the plane of the dead."
The spirit settled to the stone floor and seemed to gain substance until it was almost solid. The glowing red eyes looked deeply into me. I wonder if my own physical substance appears as insubstantial to him as his does to me. With a clatter the bonemold bow landed at my feet.
I am home. Home with the Bone-biter bow of Sul-Senipul. I cannot say the Urshilaku ancestors welcomed me with open arms, but the initiation is complete.
Day Ninety-three:Tested
Many times today I wished I had not used my recall spell last night. Carrying the Bone-biter bow of Sul-Senipul might have given me passage out of the burial caverns past the rest of the Urshilaku ancestors, but I didn't think of that. It seemed easier to recall out and spend the night with Ahnassi. Definitely no complaint there, or overall, but it is a long trek back to the Urshilaku camp, especially since I didn't want to use the guild guide and pass through Ald-ruhn again without having started on Edwinna's assignment. Overall a hectic day of running, restoratives, and self defense. One would think this island would run out of cliff racers eventually.
I arrived at the Urshilaku camp after sunset, but not too late to be welcomed. Sul-Matuul was suitably astonished at my return. True to his word he accepted me as a clanfriend, offering the fullest hospitality of the camp, but he did not expect to see me again. According to the legend the Nerevarine is supposed to drive all the outlanders out of Morrowind. How an outlander could do that is pretty hard for him to get his head around. It's beyond me, and I've been thinking about it for a lot longer. I hoped to get an answer from the wise woman. Now that I am a clanfriend I was allowed to speak to her.
Nibani Maesa surprised me. I don't really forget that the Dunmer live for centuries, but I don't always think of the consequences. The words 'wise woman' bring an image of an aged crone, huddled in a robe three sizes too big for the shriveled body. Nibani is a beautiful, vibrant woman, despite having lived long enough to commit all the lore of the clan to memory. She seemed better able to deal with the idea of an outlander Nerevarine. Partly because I am not the Nerevarine.
The first thing she explained to me is that I am someone who might become the Nerevarine, but I am not now. The Urshilaku ancestors apparently accepted that I might and let me pass, but there are many more trials to be faced. The rise of the 'sleepers' and the Sixth House cult she takes as signs that the time of the Nerevarine has arrived. My arriving at the same time doesn't mean I'm the Nerevarine, but she is thinking that I may have some part to play.
I don't know if I even want that part to turn out to be as the Nerevarine. One of the prophecies is called 'The Seven Trials'. The first trial I completed just by being born on the right day, but the remaining trials are not even clearly understood. How am I supposed to pass them?
"Neither blight nor age can harm him. The curse-of-flesh before him flies." Nibani thinks 'curse of flesh' refers to the corprus disease. Maybe it means that the Nerevarine has to cure the corprus. Maybe it means he is immune to the corprus. Maybe it means that the Nerevarine returns as a ghost with no flesh.
"In caverns dark Azura's eye sees, and makes to shine the moon and star." This one Nibani seems to know something about, but wouldn't speak of it. There is a cavern called 'the Shrine of the Incarnate', but I'm not allowed to ask about it. She did tell me that Nerevar bore some sort of moon and star marking, but some people say it was a birthmark while others say it was a ring or other token. In any event I don't have it and since I can't ask about this shrine I see no way to get it.
"A strangers voice unites the houses. Three halls call him Hortator." At least this one is easy to figure out. Three of the five great houses are represented on Vvardenfell. In times of dire crisis the great houses suspend their usual rivalries and unite under the authority of a Hortator; a sort of war leader. Understandable, but clearly beyond me. House Hlaalu is basically under the control of the Cammona Tong. Those bigots are not going to accept an outlander Hortator. They hate all outlanders, and me more than most.
"A stranger's hand unites the Velothi. Four tribes call him Nerevarine." This has to refer to the four tribes of the Ashlanders. From what Hassour has said the other three tribes aren't even sure they believe in a Nerevarine. What would make them believe, and what would even begin to make them believe in an outlander Nerevarine?
"He honors blood of the tribe unmourned. He eats their sin, and is reborn." Nibani guesses that the 'tribe unmourned' would be house Dagoth, but it might be the Dwemer. As to atoning for the vast sins of either one she offers no clue.
"His mercy frees the cursed false gods, binds the broken, redeems the mad." 'False Gods' no doubt refers to the tribunal, but again there is no clue as to what they need to be free of. At last report Vivec is in his palace, not a prison, and the other two don't seem to be complaining either.
Whatever my part is, I have to think it does not involve passing these trials. What I can do is find what Nibani calls the lost prophecies. Caius and his contacts in the temple should be able to find a way to put me in touch with the dissident priests.
Day Ninety-four: Journey to Sheogorad
The ruins Edwinna wants me to explore are at Mzuleft, on the main island of Sheogorad. Sheogorad lies off the north coast. They are untamed; a wilderness that provides a buffer between Vvardenfell and the Sea of Ghosts. Off the shore near the Urshilaku camp the chain has dwindled down to nothing more than a scattering of fang like rocks rising above the sea. My intent was to travel along the coast until I could cross to a major island, then work along the chain to the main island. An outpost called Dagon Fel lies near the ruins, and I thought I could make it in a day. I almost made it, but not as planned.
I awoke to the sound of hide slamming against poles. Nibani Maesa had allowed me to pitch my bedroll in her yurt. The howling wind threatened to collapse it over us. She laughed as I sat bolt upright. "It is a sturdy tent Arvil Bren, fit for the Nerevarine himself," she said. I took a brief glance out at the swirling ash and dust and changed my plan. Just as well.
My recall spell again took me home to Pelagiad and Ahnassi's house. The first benefit of my changed plan was seeing her. She had acquired an appropriate scabbard for me, and the great sword Magebane now rides across my back. Though cracking mudcrabs and slaying rats is certainly beneath the dignity of such a fine weapon it provided good practice throughout the day.
I hiked into Balmora. The clear skies and sunshine of the Ascadian Isles was even more enjoyable than usual after the brief taste of ashstorm. Caius was impressed by the Bone-biter bow and my new status among the Ashlanders. We read over the notes I had taken, and he was amazed by the idea that I could possibly become the real Nerevarine rather than the copy that I was originally intended to be. The trials did set him back however. "Well that explains why Nerevarines don't just fall off the trees," he said with a shrug. He agreed to contact Mehra Milo and start setting me up to meet the dissident priests. He also gave me some useful advice regarding my mission to Sheogorad.
When my meeting with the spymaster was complete I went to the guild hall. I did not want to face Edwinna, or the Ashstorm that would likely still be blowing between Ald-ruhn and the coast. Caius let me know that I didn't need to. I took the guild guide to Sidrith Mora, capital of the Telvanni district, and took ship directly to Dagon Fel. I sleep tonight in comfort, safe on the rolling sea, and will see the sun rise over Dagon Fel tomorrow.
Day Ninety-five:Mzuleft
The ship docked at Dagon Fel as I rose this morning. I had heard nothing very good about this tiny village, but as always one has to see for themselves. I found the people friendly and the village sturdy. The location is obviously highly desirable as it has been occupied, and fought over, for millennia. Beneath the foundations of the present village lie the remains of Nord fishermen who settled here in a time long beyond reckoning. They were driven out by the Dunmer or the Dwemer, and the site changed hands between them frequently until the disappearance of the Dwemer left it to the administration of the Temple. The Empire has brought new life to the fallow site, and in the cycle of time the modern village is home to fishermen; mostly Nords.
I was warned to not be fooled by the beauty of the surrounding wilderness or the peacefulness of the village. Sheogorad is untamed and even the roads must be traveled with caution. When I asked a guard, a member of the Imperial Legion, for directions to Mzuleft he gave them grudgingly. The island is dotted with ancient ruins and other sites of interest. In his opinion many of them are much safer to visit. When I insisted that my task called for Mzuleft and no other site would do he sent me on my way with a reminder that outside the confines of the village I should expect no rescue from the Legion.
It did not take long for his pessimism to prove to be warranted. There is a beast that roams the plane of the Daedra called a hunger. They feed on metals and have a strong taste for enchanted metals particularly, so they are sometimes summoned for use in war and other conflict. A group of them driven into the enemy formations can wreck havoc, disintegrating weapons right out of their hands and the armor off of their backs. I have no idea how one of these voracious creatures came to be wandering loose on this mortal plane, but there he was.
The hunger had set itself up at a crossroads, and was obviously well fed. The litter of straps, scabbards, and other bits and pieces indicated that many unwary travelers had left prize possessions to be consumed. Occasional bones marked those who had not given up on some rapidly deteriorated weapon and been struck down by the sharp claws for their efforts. I slipped into the shadow of a jumble of boulders and watched the pacing monster to get a feel for its movements.
It had a definite lair. Off the road a bit, but with easy access. If someone came along it could lurk there unseen until they were well within its range. With no one in sight the creature shuffled about, walking on two legs though hunched far over, shuffling through the fallen remnants for tidbits left from previous meals. I made a slow stealthy approach, and struck the hunger from behind before it could weaken my spear. Though it did do some damage before it thrashed out the last of its life, I suffered no loss or damage that a few minutes at the forge can't repair. Fearsome creatures from the Daedric and elemental planes just wandering the countryside. I may never complain about cliff racers again.
When I reached the ruins I found them taken over by Orcs; warriors and barbarians, heavily armed. I was very glad that the hunger had not badly damaged the Dwemer metal of my spear, and that I had enchanted it with the frost spell that I did. A minor wound or even a thrust completely blocked by armor left my foes stricken with a piercing cold that numbed the limbs and cracked the heavy green skin. Fortunately the Orcs were stupid in their lust for battle and charged recklessly as fast as they arrived at the scene. Had they just tried to hold me at bay and defend themselves until they could all strike together after the first bellowing war cry alerted them I would have been in serious trouble. As it happened they fell in ones and twos as my spear caked with their frozen blood.
I feel much better about the fortune in silver weapons that I abandoned in the burial caverns. Orcish smiths make some of the most prized armor and weapons, and I teleported home so heavily laden that I couldn't move a step. I even made a necklace out of great gears of Dwemer metal. They were on the floor, not really supported by the cord around my neck, but that was sufficient for my recall spell to catch them in its field. Ahnassi was amused, but Mebestian will be very pleased with my ingenuity. Five hundred pounds of raw Dwemer metal will fetch a good price. The plans and an ancient Dwemer book were probably the greatest treasures in the ruin, but of course they had been passed over by the stupid Orcs.
Day Ninety-six: New ruins
I delivered the Scarab blueprint to Edwinna today. She was greatly pleased, not only with the plans but that I showed up at exactly the right moment. She had the guild hall was in an uproar.
I got up this morning expecting a fairly peaceful day. Ahnassi and I shared a quiet breakfast. I am truly in love with my tiger woman. She went to Mebestian's shop before he was open for business. He lives upstairs, and she brought him back to the house. Over soothing tea brewed from hackle-lo leaf we negotiated a fair price for the latest load of Dwemer artifacts. He took what he could, limited by what he could pay for as well as what he could carry. Over the next couple weeks he will be stopping by to pick up the rest from Ahnassi.
Pelagiad is perfectly located. I have found that my intervention spell, used for teleporting to the nearest temple will take me to Vivec if I am on the south side of the main street, but by the simple crossing of the street I am closer to Balmora. One of the benefits of Pelagiad as a place to stay out of site is that it has no ready access to fast transportation; no silt strider, no guild guides, no port. Only traffic from the main road passes through, mostly traders leading pack guar or herdsmen. Not the idle travelers that could turn out to be Dark Brotherhood assassins. Having my magic mark set in the house is the only thing that gives me the ready access that I have.
Anyway, I avoided making an appearance in Balmora, where I would likely be recognized, by teleporting into the throngs of pilgrims and functionaries of teeming Vivec City. Again, I am thankful for Ahnassi. I told her my plan, and my reasoning...and she purred softly but looked perplexed. "My love, you go this way to Vivec to avoid recognition, yes?" she asked. I nodded. "I have a gift. A fine common brown robe for you to wear." The Khajiit are very sensitive to feelings, and she did not want to offend me, but I could tell by the light dancing in her eyes that there was more to this disguise than met the eye.
My eye, not hers. I looked down at myself. Indoril boots, made of chitinous shells bound with hardened resins, gleaming a deep blue. Armored leggings reinforced with the bright green fibers of Red Mountain's volcanic glass. Breastplate made from the ruddy hide of a dreugh and the golden glow of Dwemer metal bracers on my forearms completed the rainbow. I wanted to be inconspicuous, but looked like I had gotten seperated from my circus. When I looked back at the delicately stripped face we both collapsed with laughter. I took the robe.
The hike across Vivec was interesting, as always, but uneventful, and I hurried through the guild hall. The petty jealousies there seem to have cooled. My promotion by the Archmage was well earned, I think, and despite the generally low morale of his staff they are coming to accept that he may have been right for once. I was quite happy though to transport on to Ald-ruhn.
I had no sooner appeared on the guild guide platform than Erranil was shouting. "Edwinna! Edwinna! Arvil Bren is here!" Then she muttered "thank the divines, maybe now she will calm down." With that as a herald I stepped into the mayhem, hoping the plans in my hand would shield me from whatever was going on. They didn't. My arrival did get everyone else off the hook though.
Edwinna snatched them with a quick word of thanks and continued without stopping for breath, "You are just in time! A new ruin has been discovered! Someone needs to get over there right away and recover any critical artifacts before some dreugh clawed barbarian with the brain of a mudcrab sells them to a smuggler for a jug of sujamma!" I could tell by the way the local guild hall staff were slipping quietly into corners that they were thankful her 'someone' had taken form other than them. There was no question that I was the one she now had firmly in mind. "The kwama broke into it from the Gnissis egg mine. The legion there has been apparently keeping it quiet. The Deathshead garrison there is mostly conscripts and Orcs so they certainly can't be trusted with such a find. Go at once! Take the silt strider to Gnissis and get down in that egg mine."
"Edwinna, if I get riding around on a silt strider the Dark Brotherhood is sure to pick up my trail," I protested.
She smiled a cold smile. "You've handled their petty assassins before Arvil Bren, and this is important. Our scuttleheaded Archmage doesn't understand the importance of my research, but I thought you did." The smile turned from cold to dazzling in an instant. I suspect some amount of magica went into a charm spell but I didn't actually catch it. Edwinna didn't get to be a guild hall steward without a powerful command of spellcraft. The next thing I knew I was on my way to the strider port.
I slipped into the Gnissis temple as quickly and quietly as I could. It's a good thing I joined the temple. They were happy to provide a bed for the night, and among the pilgrims that come and go here I may be able to remain out of sight; for one night at least.
Day Ninety-seven: The Gnissis egg mine
Gnissis is a very tense place. House Redoran is very traditional. They strongly support the temple, but there is an undercurrent of sympathy towards the even older ways of ancestor worship. The presence of significant temple shrines in Gnissis and the surrounding area made it difficult for the temple to turn jurisdiction over to the Redorans. The Empire, in their usual overbearing way, has built a fort here in the questionable guise of keeping the peace. To some extent it worked, the Redorans and the Temple are united in their unhappiness with this turn of events.
The demands on the Legion left General Darius with few options. To garrison the new fort he has had to find soldiers as best he could. Monsters flowing out of Red Mountain are providing a lucrative market for mercenaries familiar with Vvardenfell as well as occupying the locals who have a heroic bent, so recruiting is difficult. Orcs, fresh from the mountains of the far west, have been inducted into the Legion in droves, and swell the ranks in backwater posts like Gnissis. A horde of green skinned barbarians unfamiliar with Vvardenfell's factions and subtleties perhaps raises more tension than it eases. Just keeping order in the ranks is a challenge I'm sure. I don't think the General was even aware of the discovery of the Dwemer ruin.
The mine has been closed to the public due to the kwama queen contracting the blight. The miners are allowed limited access to work, and there is a thriving black market for kwama eggs, but the export trade is completely stopped. The port is idle, adding to the economic woes of the underworked miners. The legion has a guard posted at the locked door of the mine. Although he was reasonably courteous it was clear that to get the key from him would involve a display that would have roused the entire garrison. The armored Orcs roaming the streets would surely respond without even limited courtesy.
It seemed I was at an impasse. I was sure that taking on the legion garrison was not what Edwinna had in mind, and it certainly didn't strike me as a good idea. I had lunch at the tradehouse after a morning of fruitless inquiries. My fortunes rose as I ate.
Though priced high, the tradehouse menu did offer kwama egg fare. The proprietor was not the most open source, but a few drakes slipped across the counter got me a recommendation about someone who 'might know a bit' about where eggs could be had. I set off to find a Hainab Lasamsi, an unemployed Dunmer who had opted out of the egg mine completely rather than scraping along on the limited work being allowed.
Hainab was not hard to find. The unveiled hatred passing between him and the Orcs of the garrison arced through the air like lightning as he passed through the streets. Just being seen talking to him seemed like a bad idea. I managed to walk near enough to say "I'd like to propose some business, but not the kind your admirers would approve. Can we get out of sight?" He gave the slightest nod, and I went to a nearby merchant's open air stall to watch him surreptitiously. He wandered idly, but eventually drifted out of town to the south. I continued my shopping until the guards had eased into more relaxed postures, then followed at my own leisurely pace.
As I walked along a trail by the river the dark elf leapt out of the brush. It was not an ambush, but he was clearly wanting to show that it could have been. Our negotiations did not start well. "The loss of output from your mine is causing concern among some...associates," I began.
He cut me off. "Your words fall from your mouth like the droppings of a guar outlander. There are a hundred egg mines in Vvardenfell, all bursting at the seams with eggs that have no transport to market. The ships do not come for fear of the blight. There is no shortage of eggs to keep the legion from closing us down, and your 'associates' have no concern for our problems. Tell me the truth of your business or I will be throwing your bones to the slaughterfish."
Perceptive, better informed, and straight to the point; I hated him, briefly. After some frank discussion though we realized we had mutual interests. One Orc in particular presented a serious problem to Hainab's new business, and that particular Orc was going to be an unavoidable obstacle in my search for the ruins.
Hainab was among the first miners to recognize that the burrowing kwama had broken into something special. His first thought was that all the miners were going to be rich, as perhaps by right they should have been. But the Orcs of the garrison had been quick to point out that Dwemer artifacts were property of the Emperor despite the standard mining agreements that said the workers of a mine would split any and all profits from unusual finds. Their leader in fact, though not rank; a former warrior chieftain whose fractious nature kept him from rising in the legion, established a plan to smuggle the artifacts away that was supposed to enrich everyone involved. In practice only the Orcs profited. Claims that the ruins had yielded little; threats to blame everything on the miners; fierce beatings from armored warriors; the miners were a down trodden lot with no recourse. Hainab turned to smuggling eggs out of the mines.
Our paths crossed at the Orc leader. This villain had established himself in the lowest levels of the egg mine near the entrance to the ruins, where he could turn away any investigation by the miners. He had a bedroll, and apparently his minions covered his duties and kept him supplied; mostly with liquor as he could get fat from the vast supply of kwama eggs and scrib jelly in the inoperative mine. Hainab knew of a secret entrance to the mines, by way of an underground stream, but slinking past the Orc with his loads of eggs was a constant risk. He revealed the entrance to me, and gave me directions to the ruins. The only catch in this generous sharing being that his directions included one unmistakable landmark; the Orc.
The trek through the submerged passage was long, and I was still dripping when I met the enemy. There was no question of negotiation. I was there to kill him, and since I was obviously no passing miner he was set on killing me. The battle was short and viscous. He did not seem as skilled with his longsword as I expected, and the Legion armor he wore was heavier than the Orcish mail to which he was no doubt accustomed. The ebony lifetaker, my shortsword that draws life from those it strikes and channels it into healing magic for me , made short work of him. I think he was probably drunk, though with an Orc that can be hard to tell.
The ruins have been stripped of artifacts, but fortunately only the Orcs of the garrison were involved. A book, written in Dwemer, lay discarded under a dusty table. Being Orcs they probably pushed it aside in their hurry to claim the glittering baubles of Dwemer metal, not realizing that to a scholar the book would be far more valuable. I will be keeping it for myself. With the translation key that I found these ancient texts may provide the solution to the riddle of the Dwemer's disappearance. Edwinna will be happy enough without the book. Inside the cover, folded and brittle, I found a set of plans that seem to be for some sort of mechanical netch. It appears to be designed to float through the air. I can only guess what she will make of that.
The strider will be arriving in Ald-ruhn shortly. I will take straight to my bed. It has been a long day.
Day Ninety-eight: Lure of the enchanting lab
This morning I delivered the airship blueprint to Edwinna. I should have waited until after breakfast. She disappeared into her chambers muttering something about cogs and power cells and may not emerge to eat for days. At her door she turned as if stirred by sudden memory. "Arvil, talk to Tanar. You need a plan." Tanar Llervi has her quarters and lab downstairs. She is a Dunmer, a highly skilled enchanter, and an able smith who makes her own weapons at a full forge in her enchanting lab. Her laboratory is envied throughout the mage's guild in Vvardenfell. I shrugged and went to find her.
I told her what Edwinna had said, and about the blueprint I had brought. "Well, she will be no help," Tanar said. "She knows she got you into this mess too. Two men were here yesterday; outlanders. They didn't ask directly about you, just said they needed a mage for hire. Specified they needed someone who was familiar with weapons as well, like a battlemage or a nightblade; a heavy hitter. By the time they were done there was no one that could suit them but you. Edwinna told them there was no one in the local who could suit their needs and they left, but they were seen asking around the strider port and then they settled in over at the Rat in the Pot. We had them watched. They were taking turns out in the streets until late last night; watching. Watching for you."
Two of them. My blood ran cold. After so many failures the Dark Brotherhood is sending out their assassins in pairs. "Were they ever left alone in the guild hall?"
She nodded and bit her lip. "I'm sorry. They bought some minor enchantments before they started asking questions. One of them said he had a money belt under his robes and asked if I could step out while he took out the gold to pay me. Everything in my lab is locked so I saw no harm stepping into my quarters."
We joined the others at breakfast. Tanar got everyone's attention, then told them "Edwinna is secluded in her library. Arvil Bren the conjurer is the ranking guild member here, and we have a problem." She turned to me, and everyone else did too.
My mouth opened once, twice, a third time. Finally I thought of something to say. I just followed the hall steward's lead. "We need a plan." Once I got going it was pretty easy to outline the problem. "Two Dark Brotherhood assassins are very likely to appear tonight in Tanar's lab. They will be looking for me, but no doubt they intend to kill her and anyone else that gets in their way. One option is that I could leave town. If I depart in an obvious enough fashion they will very likely follow, but if they don't keep track of me they will likely recall to their marker here. As you know I have some experience fighting these assassins. Two of them popping up in the depth of the night is not something to look forward to, or a possibility you can ignore. I would rather fight them here and now than leave you to contend with them. Think."
Ideas came and withered under scrutiny, but eventually something took form. By lunchtime the details seemed to have been ironed out. Tanar and one of the Ashlander students wandered off to the Rat in the Pot to put the plan in motion. Apparently it worked. On a high stool at a worktable in her lab perched a sack of grain, supporting the inconspicuous brown robe Ahnassi had pressed on me. My hair, bound in its usual guar tail, adorned a gourd set on the top. It will grow back I suppose, but having it cut off was a sacrifice made only under extreme duress. A scattering of books on the table, with one open binding the robe sleeves by the cuffs in a mostly natural position completed the scene. It was far from perfect, but provided a distraction in the brief disorientation that follows a teleportation spell.
Tanar laid it on thick, complaining to her lunch companion about being ousted from her lab by that 'arrogant conjurer'. Her complaint included that all I was doing was reading, nose buried so deep in my books that I hadn't even responded when she stormed out of the room. She presented me as an appealing bait, then set the hook by concluding 'at least he will be gone by tonight. He never sleeps here any more since that assassin tried to get him. No one really knows where he goes at night, but at least it's somewhere other than here."
I could have stayed all night in the cramped cabinet I suppose, but I was very pleased when the soft pop of a teleportation spell sounded in the room early in the afternoon. I quickly cast my most powerful protective spell, then called upon the barkskin spell of my Breton heritage as I sprang from the cabinet. A slashing wakizashi had just shattered the gourd, scattering my sacrificed hair, and the second assassin was popping into place in the center of the room. I rammed my spear through him cleanly before he even had his bearings, shreds of heart meat frozen to the spearhead as it burst from his chest.
The first assassin, not pleased with having slain the gourd and grain sack, spun into a defensive crouch. His Daedric wakizashi rang off my shield as I drew the ebony lifetaker. The duel was challenging, but the outcome was fixed by magic and preparation. With my defenses at their peak it was almost beyond even his great skills to inflict any damage, while every minor wound my opponent received augmented my own health. Healing magic actually collected around me, restoring my wounds as fast as I received them. Soon a second black clad body sprawled on the floor.
I left Tanar a set of the black chainmail for her part in the plan, and brought the other here to Balmora. Galbedir may not have as fine a lab, but the guild in Balmora has accumulated some powerfully charged soul gems. I have been practicing the slashing style of the wakizashi, and even though I am very pleased with my ebony lifetaker shortsword I could not pass up the opportunity having two Daedric blades in my possession presented.
My own skills as an enchanter are sufficient for some things, but I destroy a lot of soul gems in the process of getting one to take. Fine with lesser gems, but the rare and powerful gems I will leave in the hands of the experts. I traded one of the immensely valuable Daedric wakizashi to Galbedir. One thing that makes Daedric weapons so valuable is there propensity to enchantment. They can hold a far more powerful spell than any other weapon. Galbedir, in her turn, used a powerful gem and enchanted my remaining wakizashi for me. The Daedric Lifestealer; it is a masterpiece.
Day Ninety-nine: Paranoid or protective?
I woke this morning with the deep satisfaction of success. I think I will have at least a little time before the Dark Brotherhood tries again. When they do I will meet them with their own Daedric weapon, charged with an enchantment that I probably could not have afforded without the supply of priceless weaponry that they seem willing to throw into their assault. It started out a good day. Still a good day in the end, but the slippery slopes of Mage Guild politics seem to be reaching out to grab me.
Ranis called me into her office as soon as I had finished breakfast. The attentions of Galbedir and Ajira have cooled somewhat in light of my lack of response, but since I am keeping Ahnassi and my life in Pelagiad deeply hidden from the danger of the Dark Brotherhood there is still a pleasant undercurrent here. I was smiling when I passed through her door, even though I anticipated an unpleasant task. I underestimated how unpleasant it might be.
Ranis is not known for subtlety or slow build ups; "I believe there is a Telvanni spy in the guild; in a position of significant influence in the guild."
"Hold on Ranis. If this is headed towards me going to some guild hall and killing someone in cold blood and plain sight you are really going to have to come up with some hard evidence. Hard evidence and approval from someone..." I trailed off. I couldn't think whose approval would suffice; Archmage Trebonius maybe?
"I'm not talking about killing anyone," she protested. "Alright, I have said that often enough before, but really I don't want any action taken. I just want you to find me some of that hard evidence you would be looking for if I did want action taken."
"Then you would want me to take the action. No deal Ranis. I want no part of this. Tashpi was no necromancer. You could have sent me to get her to join the guild. There was something personal there but I took you at your word that her dying was guild business. Now you are on the hunt for a spy. Why?"
"To protect the guild! Okay. There were better ways to handle Tashpi. Maybe better ways to handle a lot of things. But that doesn't change that House Telvanni would destroy the guild in Morrowind if they get half a chance. There is a spy. That arrogant buffoon Trebonius refuses to see it; refuses to see anything going on. We Dunmer live ten times longer than you or him. The Telvanni plan, and move, and grind away at us. I want to find the spy to discredit Trebonius further. I admit that too. But that is also for the good of the guild. He is a disaster as the Archmage of Vvardenfell. I need your help. Not to discredit Trebonius, but to guard us against a Dunmer Great House that he does not understand."
I sighed. I squirmed. The red eyes bored into me. "I'll investigate Ranis. But so help me I am not gonna kill anybody over this." Then I looked her square in the eye. "And I let Tashpi go. She is fleeing to the mainland. She is no necromancer so I didn't kill her for being one. If there is something I should legitimately kill her for tell me before she gets off of Vvardenfell and I will track her down. If you want her dead as a personal grudge hire an assassin." She did not move. "Sorry I lied about killing her."
She nodded slightly. "I'm sorry I lied about her being a necromancer. You have come a long way since you walked in that door Arvil. A long way indeed." I wasn't sure if she meant the first time I walked in the door, or if she meant just in the few minutes since I came in and sat down today. Either one would be true I think.
We went over everyone in Ald-ruhn. I have spent a lot of time there, and really didn't think there was a spy. Ranis slowly came to agree. Edwinna runs the guild hall as a reflection of herself, and she steers clear of intrigue. Since she keeps herself so far removed Ald-ruhn would not be a very effective place for a spy to exert any influence. Then I brought up Ranis' own hall. It was easy to see her bristle, but she nodded. "My ego says that could not happen here, but this is for the guild not my ego." But in the end we agreed no one in Balmora fit as a spy for the Telvanni. Caldera? A new hall, struggling to get established, not fertile ground for intrigue. That left Sadrith Mora, a thorn in the heart of the Telvanni capital; or the headquarters itself in Vivic City. I came to Sadrith Mora first.
I couldn't just barge into the hall and start looking for spies. I've done a couple favors for Skink-in-trees-shade, the Argonian steward of the hall, but I am far from well known here. The guild is quartered in the Imperial fortress called Wolverine Hall, and space is at a premium. Skink suggested that it would be best if I stayed in the town proper for the duration of my stay, and that to stay in the town I would need Telvanni hospitality papers. More like lack of hospitality papers. As an outlander mage and member of the Imperial Mage's Guild I feel lucky to have not been attacked in the street. The open hostility of the Telvanni certainly supports Ranis' theories.
The papers come from the proprietor of the Gateway Inn, which is the only place anyone who is not a Telvanni retainer is allowed to stay. All very inconvenient, but at least it is all in one place. Telvanni architecture involves growing huge trees that have naturally hollow stems, which are trained and distorted into corridors and rooms. The curving grace is nice from the outside, inside it is a twisting maze. Finding my way through the maze of the Inn left me hoping not to have to enter any more buildings, but that was a vain hope.
Everyone in the Gateway Inn it seems is talking about the haunting, including the very irritable proprietor. A fine room called the south turret room has been rendered uninhabitible by a spirit. The spirit can be driven away, but returns in very short order. Rumor has it that it has been slain over a thousand times. Thinking that it would soften my reception a bit I offered to take a look at the problem. My mistake; I was summarily accused of arrogance among questions regarding my ancestry. Mage Mistress Arara Uvulas, I was told, has already looked into it. Where this expert had not found the source of the haunting it was easy to dismiss me out of hand I suppose. Instead of searching for the spy I found myself searching for Arara Uvulas at the Telvanni Council Chambers; a veritable rat warren of passages.
Arara Uvulas is a mouth. The Telvanni councilors are far too busy and self important to actually attend council meetings, so they are represented by mouths who speak for them. What happens if a mouth says the wrong thing I have no idea. She represents Master Neloth, who can't attend despite the fact that he lives right here in Sadrith Mora. I am not impressed with the Telvanni. Once I had the worthy mouth's attention she told me what she had determined about the haunting. She found no sign of a restless spirit or ancestral influences; not surprising since the Gateway Inn has not been there all that long. She said that banishing the ghost was easy; which I had already done once myself. A slave told me he had beaten the spirit out of existence with a broom once, just for sport. Then she got to the crux of the matter; she had no idea why it kept coming back and suggested consulting an expert in the school of conjuration. I wanted to say 'no kidding, wish I'd thought of that', but I don't think mouths are chosen for their sense of humor.
Rather than root around the plant buildings of the city looking for a conjuration expert I returned to the guild hall, where I should have been looking all along. While everyone seemed quite amused by the problem, Uleni Heleran laughed more than anyone. Coincidentally she offers training in conjurations among her other services. Not coincidentally actually. Uleni conjured the Gateway haunt herself, as retaliation for an incident regarding hospitality papers. I offered to forget about it. No one else had identified the source of the haunting and I had no desire to turn her in. She was of a different mind and gave me some forged 'hospitality papers' for the ghost. She instructed me to give them to Angeredhel with her compliments. I will wait until morning. I don't think he will appreciate the joke, and my room is uncomfortable enough already.
Day One Hundred: Spy revealed
I joined the mage guild to cover my activities for Caius. I quickly found myself enjoying the camaraderie. I have benefited greatly from the experience and training of my fellows. I have collected dues and compelled recruits; done favors for all manner of wizard. I never thought it would come to this.
I returned to the Sadrith Mora guild hall in time for breakfast. We all had a good laugh over Angaredhel's spluttering response to the ghost's hospitality papers. Though I spent little time there I did get comfortable with the members in Sadrith Mora. When Skink-in-trees-shade said there was no spy in his hall I had to agree. I was actually doubting that there was a spy at all, but the wily Argonian squelched that thought. The hall in Sadrith Mora could legitimately be said to be in enemy territory, and he is the steward. I accepted his view that the Telvanni certainly had a spy in the guild, if not more than one. In his opinion the spy would be in the main hall in Vivec City, where the decisions are made that affect the guild throughout Vvardenfell. I had been avoiding Vivec's hall since I am not overly popular there, but after the frosty reception by the Telvanni the welcome seemed positively warm.
With Skink's suspicions backing up Ranis I decided to approach Trebonius directly upon my arrival in Vivec City. The Archmage scoffed. That pompous blowhard would not even discuss the matter, saying that his advisor on Dunmer matters, Tiram Gadar keeps an eye out for that sort of thing. An excellent watch keeper no doubt, but I had the temerity to ask if he could be trusted completely. Trebonius spluttered with rage.
"I am the Archmage!!" he shouted. "Do you think I wouldn't know if there was a spy in my own hall? Ranis has twisted your mind with her paranoid delusions." He flung a dry parchment in front of me. "Do you see that? Tiram comes recommended by Ocato the Battlemage! I suppose next you would question Ocato himself!" With that the Archmage of Vvardenfell stalked off. I didn't bother to tell him that even as the credentials lay scattered on the table I could see there was no need to question Ocato. The signature on the recommendation was misspelled. Rather than try to confront the Archmage with a reality he did not want to see I gathered the papers and returned to Balmora.
Ranis and I agreed on a number of things. The first I appreciated greatly. We were not going to kill Timar Gadar. By we I mean Ranis was not going to give the order and I was not going to march into the largest guild hall in Vvardenfell and kill Timar, even if he was a spy. Ranis, much to my surprise, did not want him dead anyway.
The next thing we agreed on was that in the right hands this credential with the misspelled signature from the the Imperial battlemage could be used to shatter Trebonius delicate credibility as the Archmage of Vvardenfell. Ranis as steward of the hall could easily get it to the highest levels of the guild hierarchy. Quite possibly Trebonius would be recalled to Cyrodiil. I was mad enough at the pompous fool that I was in favor of this course. Again to my surprise Ranis disagreed.
"Arvil," she said, "they would just send someone else with no knowledge of Morrowind. And they might send someone far more actively meddlesome than the scuttlehead we have now. Better to stick with what we have for a while and get what we want than have someone new that hasn't given us the means to get rid of him." She rustled the papers that were still gripped in her hand.
A glimmer of her plan broke through the haze in my brain. I thought it did anyway. "Knowledge of Morrowind; you have plenty of that. Are you angling to be the next Archmage Ranis?"
She smiled a rueful smile. "No Arvil, I'm not. I am ambitious, and I think I could serve the guild well, but they would not have a Dunmer take that office. We live too long and could accumulate too much power here in our own land. No, not me; and not some fresh Imperial favorite. The guild stewards in Vvardenfell need to stand up and agree on an Archmage that would serve well for us and still be acceptable to the guild."
"Edwinna?" I asked half-heartedly. I could not imagine her getting that involved in guild politics.
"No, she would not want to leave her research. And Skink in Sadrith Mora is a fine guardian for our interests in hostile Telvanni territory but an Argonian certainly wouldn't be able to manage our interests. The other Houses would hate him as much as the Telvanni, unfortunately. Edwinna and I have been talking, and we have agreed on someone both of us could support. The staff in Vivec would support anyone who supplanted Trebonius. Skink is not sure yet."
"Not sure about who?" I asked. I couldn't think of anyone else who was anywhere near the rank or skill to be the next Archmage. I also had no idea why I was being taken into this high level of counsel.
"Arvil, you need to get to know Skink better," she said. It felt like the floor was slipping out from under my chair. "And you really need to improve your spellcraft. You won't be able to hold the staff of office if you are clutching that spear all the time."
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